


Random Drabbles

by unbirthdayhatter



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbirthdayhatter/pseuds/unbirthdayhatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random drabbles in the league fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The end of a Beginning (Draven/Sona)

He could smell her blood, even from here; but there was no where left for her to go, he wasn’t hunting, wasn’t chasing, was just following her. Watching delicate, familiar hands drag across the ground as she tried to pull herself to safety. She wouldn’t make it far; not with the wound in her leg, flayed open by the sharp slice of an axe; dug through her calf like butter. Her skin had always been so soft. The ground was unbelievably loud to his ears under his boots, rocks and dirt crunching with every careful step he took to close the distance between her.

There was no laughter, no amusement from the glorious executioner. He felt, in a way, like he had as a child the first time he’d killed a man. They had been starving, struggling, and the choice had come down to living or eating. So they, of course, chose to live. But he remembered that throbbing, sick ache in the pit of his stomach; remembered being so stupid and young, so hungry that he could do nothing but cry at night till he passed out from the exhaustion of it all. Remembers when he’d driven that glass into a man’s stomach, took all the food he could muster and ran. He remembers the sickness he felt then, what had pushed him so far– remembers it like it was yesterday, like it was now.

He knows, in all honesty, it’s because it’s _her_. That she had gotten in his head, under his skin, messed him up in ways he couldn’t quite understand– because he never really _learned_ those kinds of things.

He wants to tell her he’s sorry; because for once, he thinks he really might be. Wants to tell her that he’ll make it easy, quick, that it’s not her fault– wants to say a dozen things but he doesn’t. It won’t help her; won’t make her feel any better, and when she looks over her shoulder and that pain turns to coldness, to ice– he thinks that’s the best way it can be. He hopes she hates him with every fiber she can muster, because maybe he hates himself a little too– but this is just who he is– what he has to do.

That sick feeling doesn’t go away; and he never gets his axe back. Doesn’t even try, after that last blow, leaves it in her; too afraid to step in the pool of blood, to disturb her body, as pretty in death as she had been in life. He just leaves her there, hopes someone will find her, will bury her and do the things he just _can’t_ do. He want’s to, but he can’t, because he has Noxus– because he can’t leave his brother. Not after everything, he had to pick a side– and so did she; and maybe he’ll regret it years from now when he’s got nothing but this to look back on, but Draven figures he’s got another good five years left in him anyway.

However it ends, he’ll get what he deserves.

However it ends, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get rid of that sick feeling again.

 

 


	2. Flirty Fridays (Draven/Lux)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at the request of a follower on tumblr :)

“You’re absolutely impossible,” she sniped out, arms crossing and her cheeks puffing in that way they did when she was trying not to pout and it only made him laugh harder. A deep, rich sound that resonated from his chest as he propped an elbow against a tree. “Insufferable, even.” She added on, pointedly, when he wouldn’t stop laughing at her irritation. 

Truth was, she was probably right– it wasn’t exactly the brightest idea to snag the young daughter of the Crownguard family out of whatever stupid Demacian celebration they were having so he could get some one on one time. But then again, Draven really didn’t care much about Demacia… or celebrations that weren't really about Draven, anyway. 

His grin split his lip, all sharp teeth and amusement, elbow dragging down and allowing him to lean down further toward that tiny Demacian’s level. She was so small, it was deceptive, the girl could pack a wallop, so long as she didn’t get caught. But he supposes in this instance, that’s very much what happened. No one gets away from Draven. 

The pouty face though, that has to go, because he’s sure it’ll infect him with some sort of sympathy or other gross feelings if he looks at it too long. fortunately, being the wondrous person he was, he knows exactly how to resolve this problem. Leaning in, his mouth skimmed along her soft jawline, finding the flesh just below her ear and giving a slow bite listening to way it made Lux bubble up into a laugh. “I think,” he muttered, voice dropping a little lower, his other hand planting against the bark, trapping her between his arms. “You suffer me just fine.” 

He hears that little intake of breath, the one that usually comes before an argument or a lecture; but the moment his teeth move to her ear the only noise he gets is a fluttery little sigh. There are easier ways to fight these battles, and maybe it’s cheating, but he figures that doesn’t much matter when her hands fist into his vest and she tips her head up just enough to expose more of her neck to him. 

Yeah, no one gets away from Draven.


End file.
